When a God of Destruction Was Reincarnated in Tensura:

The war was over.

The Cardinal World stood once more, its lands restored, its cities rebuilt. But despite the world's renewed beauty, there was no sense of victory—only emptiness.

For those who had fought, for those who had bled, for those who had lost everything, this was not a moment of triumph.

It was a reckoning.

A realization that the universe was far greater than they had ever imagined. That their power, their status, their entire existence—meant nothing in the face of absolute authority.

They had fought with everything.

Yet in the end, Nyxion erased Azazel like he was nothing.

And the Demon Lords?

They had been toys in a game beyond their understanding.

They gathered in Tempest, the weight of reality pressing down on them. There were no celebrations. There were no victories.

Only the truth.

That they were still small.

That they were still weak.

That their survival was not because of their own power, but because Beerus allowed it.

Guy leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, his usual arrogant smirk gone. He stared at his own hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. The power he once believed to be absolute—it had meant nothing against Azazel.

"I thought I was untouchable," he muttered. "I thought I was at the top."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

"But in the eyes of true gods… I was never even a contender."

Luminous sat, silent, her arms wrapped around herself. She wasn't speaking. She wasn't moving.

She was processing.

The sheer hopelessness of what had happened, of what she had witnessed, still weighed down on her.

"We keep acting like we are gods. Like we are untouchable."

Her voice was cold, her scarlet eyes sharp.

"But compared to Beerus and his creations… we are nothing. Not even dust."

Milim, usually energetic and confident, sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the distance.

"I've never felt so powerless," she admitted, voice quiet.

It was a painful confession.

"I always thought… if I trained enough, if I got strong enough… I could protect everyone."

Her fingers dug into the ground, trembling.

"But I couldn't even protect myself."

Leon sat with his sword resting against his shoulder. His expression was calm, but his thoughts were chaotic.

He had always believed in absolute power, in controlling his own destiny.

But now…

"If we had fought alone, we would all be dead."

He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Even now, I wonder… what's the point? If beings like Nyxion exist, what does our power even mean?"

Draguel, always prideful, always certain of his strength, felt something he had never truly felt before.

Doubt.

"We were mere insects before them," he admitted. "And if Beerus had not stepped in, this world would already be lost."

His voice was low, serious.

"We need to train. We need to grow stronger. Not because we want power, but because we need to be ready if something even worse comes next."

Despite the devastation, one place remained untouched—Blumund.

Thanks to the barrier granted by Beerus, thousands had been saved from the war. It was the only true sanctuary in the world during the chaos.

As the people of the world began to emerge from the ashes, they looked to Blumund in awe.

Some wept, falling to their knees in gratitude.

Some feared the power that had protected it.

Some questioned if the gods had chosen it as their new holy land.

But one thing was certain—without that wish, they would all be dead.

Despite everything, there was still one great tragedy—the dead remained dead.

The cities and lands had been restored, but countless lives had been lost.

Rimuru looked out at the world, feeling a deep sadness.

"This isn't right."

He clenched his fists.

"I can't accept this."

The other Demon Lords turned toward him.

"Normally, reviving them would be simple for us," he admitted. "But most of the souls are… gone."

And then…

A voice echoed in his mind.

A voice only he could hear.

"Rimuru… what you ask is not impossible. But it is beyond you."

Rimuru stiffened.

"Luna?"

"Yes. I have been watching."

Her voice was calm, yet filled with sorrow.

"The souls have not simply disappeared. They have moved beyond—into the cycle of reincarnation, or into the void beyond death."

Rimuru's heart sank.

"Then tell me how to bring them back."

Luna hesitated.

"It is not about power. It is about permission."

Rimuru's eyes widened.

"Permission? From who?"

There was silence—before Luna spoke a name that sent chills down his spine.

"Beerus."

Rimuru froze.

"Beerus…?"

"Yes. He holds the keys to existence itself."

"Nothing is born, nothing ascends, nothing grows beyond its limits unless Beerus allows it."

Rimuru swallowed.

"Then what must I do?"

Luna sighed.

"To surpass your limits—to ascend beyond what you are—you must be recognized by him. You must earn his approval. Only then will you be given the right to bring back what was lost."

Rimuru's mind raced.

"You mean… unless Beerus acknowledges me, I will never be able to revive them?"

"Correct."

The weight of that truth settled over him like a stormcloud.

"Then tell me, Luna… how do I earn his recognition?"

Luna's voice grew soft… but powerful.

"You must ascend, Rimuru. You must become more than a Demon Lord. You must become something that has never existed before."

Rimuru's breath caught.

"And if I fail?"

"Then you will remain as you are. And the dead will never return."

The war had ended.

But in its place, a new journey had begun.

A journey to defy fate.

A journey to bring back the lost.

A journey to become something greater.

For the first time, the Demon Lords had a new purpose.

They would not remain weak.

They would not be playthings of the gods.

They would rise.

And in doing so…

They would challenge the will of Beerus himself.